


When the ones who should love you don't

by felicialovescats



Series: Brood Parasites [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Gen, Non-human Tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28146324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felicialovescats/pseuds/felicialovescats
Summary: For as long as he could remember, Tim was very familiar with hunger. He didn’t know why or how, because if there was one thing that wasn’t lacking in his household, it was money, and therefore food was not a problem. But sometimes, when he ate the food Mrs Mac prepared for him, a small plate of mac and cheese was enough to last him the whole day. The small muffin that his friend brought, saying that she made it herself, could satisfy him the whole morning without needing anything else.It was only when he was older that he found out why.
Series: Brood Parasites [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061930
Comments: 21
Kudos: 306





	When the ones who should love you don't

For as long as he could remember, Tim was very familiar with hunger. He didn’t know why or how, because if there was one thing that wasn’t lacking in his household, it was money, and therefore food was not a problem. But he could stuff himself up and still feel starved. Food from the cafeteria at school, or ordering delivery, even coffee and the best cookies from his favorite café – he could eat them all in one sitting and not feel fulfilled. And he would have to puke due to him being too full physically.

Only… sometimes, when he ate the food Mrs Mac prepared for him, a small plate of mac and cheese was enough to last him the whole day. The small muffin that his friend brought, saying that she made it herself, could satisfy him the whole morning without needing anything else.

He thought it was about home-cooked food, but he tried making his own food at home and it was just the same as getting takeout – nice to eat, but not lasting at all.

It was very weird, and he had even started a catalogue about the food he was eating, and at what times he would feel full and when he felt hungry. But still, it took him a long while before he finally realized what was happening.

It was when he came across a post online about something making fun of an old legend.

_“I don’t know about you guys but at my household, my grandma always talked about alien babies, or something. Like you know how sometimes a bird lays their eggs into another bird’s nest, and then the victim bird had to take care of the other bird’s eggs because they are dumb and can’t tell the difference? (Google brood parasites to learn more LOL). It’s like that for the alien babies, except they’re so similar to human babies that there is literally no difference. But like, these alien babies don’t feed off food like normal humans, instead they feed off on the family’s love and attention, essentially taking all the parent’s attention towards them, causing the other kids to be neglected or something. So my grandma always say to treat all kids kindly, give them equal amount of attention, or some shit like that. Because apparently these alien babies have some sort of magical powers that, if you don’t take care of them well, they can kill you with a snap of a finger? I’m like, wow, damn baby so badass why don’t you NOT parasite other people’s family amirite?! So I don’t exactly know why I posted this, but I just wanna see if anyone else had heard this story before?’_

And there were multiple replies to the post saying that they did, in fact, heard about this before. But most of them were actually just like the original poster – stories and old legends that they have only heard about from the older generations.

Normally Tim wouldn’t be so trusting of old legends like this. Not to mention _alien babies?_ Seemed so much harder to believe.

But.

The moment he read the line about how _they feed off on the family’s love and attention,_ something resonated in him so deeply he could only gasp in disbelief. Suddenly everything made sense.

Having food made by people _specifically for him, Timothy Drake,_ was more fulfilling than other food made for the general person. Mrs Mac cooked for him, his friends made cookies for him. He could admit now that he had always felt better when Mrs Mac actually took some time relaxing and just talking to Tim, trying to ask about his day and school. Outings with a singular friend was always so much better than a group of friends, because with Tim’s nature he was often the one that usually walked behind a group. But an outing of two gave him the chance to really get to talk to his friend, and generally enjoying himself.

 _Was he really an alien baby, left here to steal his parents’ attention from their other children? If so, then his real alien parents must have been so unlucky, or stupid. No,_ Tim _must have been so unlucky to be a Drake._

Of course, from an outsider’s view, the Drakes were perfectly normal, and great, even. Janet Drake had given a lot of effort in maintaining their reputation, with clever investments and “donations”, putting up a front when they attend any gathering with other socialites. The Drake industry was also at its peak, gaining so much money that they could build five orphanages in Gotham, and made sure all kids in there will never go hungry for the rest of their lives.

But when it comes to love and attention? Boy, did Tim landed in the wrong family.

He guessed that’s why he was almost always constantly hungry, and had to get by with Mrs Mac and his friends at school. Janet and Jack Drake may be good business partner, good archaeologists, or even a great person overall, but Tim had the right to say that they were definitely not good parents.

(And that thought was a little frightening, because if it was before he realized the weird thing about himself, he would never think about Janet and Jack as bad parents. But it was like, when he _knew_ he wasn’t really their child– without actual evidence, but when you had gone hungry almost your whole life even with a full stomach, _you know stuff_ – it opened up something in him that started to be more objective about his own living condition. And _this was not optimal living condition for a child._ )

Tim was just thankful that he was still alive. Maybe those food made with love, plus those rare but cherished moments with people that loved him was enough to have him get by. He was also thankful that it really didn’t depend on _his family’s_ love and attention, only _someone’s_ love and attention, because if not, then he was definitely screwed.

He supposed he could live on like this – living on his housekeeper’s rare social time with him, and his friends at school. He _could._

_But he was just so hungry, all the time._

This called for some experiments.

\--

So, after a few weeks of careful changes and observation, Tim had some findings:

One: his diet of love and attention can be gained from things and actions other than food. Mainly, he found that touch was the number one method he preferred, purely because it’s very concentrated, and it can last him for days with the right attention. Mrs Mac’s gentle brush of his hair when he _forgot_ to put some gel on his fringe lasted him three days without feeling that kind of hunger. His friend’s punch to his shoulder when he cracked a pun lasted him the whole day.

Two: Unlike actual food where no matter how much you want to eat, you’re full when you’re full, as well as no matter how full you were, you will be hungry again after a couple of hours, Tim’s new diet seemed to have its own storage. He could “collect” all the food he managed to gain from the interaction with people who was affectionate towards him and store them as his body slowly digest them. Then he wouldn’t need to find anymore until he was hungry again. Kinda like big anacondas where they can swallow a whole deer, then go on without food for quite a while.

The third finding he realized when his parents came back.

It was about time for them to host a gala again. It was like this requirement for you to stay among the socialites, and no matter how much his parents hated having to interrupt their work to return to Gotham, they did so, always on time.

(Tim could only wish that they did that for his birthday, but it was always hit-or-miss for him.)

He was told of their arrival when he was in school through a phone message. They were already in the airport, and they will be expecting him back home at the usual time. Don’t get him wrong, he’s pretty excited! He had guessed that his parents will be back around this time – he knew their schedule for gala hosting. But…

Couldn’t they at least give him some early notice?

But anyways, he returned home, expecting to at least be greeted. After all, it _had_ been a while since he saw his parents. Maybe he would get a hug? Or a quick rub on the head, that might last him a long time. Even some quality conversation over food would be good enough.

He got what he wanted, sort of. His parents weren’t there when he returned, but they were at the dining room during dinner. They had a few conversations, mostly started by Tim himself. They talked about his parent’s work, what interesting things they had found on site. The plans they had for the upcoming gala, like when it will be, and who would be invited.

His mother was smiling a little, relaxed as she told him her plans. When that conversation lulled, Tim moved towards his father, who asked him about school and classes. Tim said it was fine, but also asked if he had the time to go out to watch a baseball game that was upcoming, because he knew his father loved baseball games (even though he himself didn’t). Jack had happily agreed.

When food was finished, his parents excused themselves, no doubt having a lot of things to be done, and Tim moved to his bedroom, feeling quite happy with the interaction. There weren’t any fights, and everything was as good as it could be. A nice dinner where no one got angry or defensive. On normal days, this was the most he could ever expect from his parents.

So why was he still hungry?

He thought… If it was someone like Mrs Mac whom he had just spent time with, like that, with good conversation and nice food and everything, Tim would be full until tomorrow at the very least.

He did feel fuller than before the meal, but it was almost… incomparable to what he had expected from his parents, like having some snacks to tide you over until dinner. The two person that should love him, should have been enough for him to not even need anyone else’s attention, but only had love for him comparable to a snack. He was the alien baby that was left here in this family because the ones who created him thought this family was great at raising children. He could technically steal all his parents’ attention from other siblings that he could potentially have.

Tim should have known better. What other parents would leave their child alone in a huge but empty house for months, with only a housekeeper as company? When he was just in his early teens?

He subconsciously rubbed at his chest. The empty feeling wasn’t worth thinking about.

He needed a new plan.

\--

Tim had a routine established when the gala day finally arrived. He fed on small meals from his friends and Mrs Mac, although since his parents were here, the quality teatime he had with Mrs Mac had to stop for a while. If they were caught having tea during Mrs Mac’s working hours Tim’s parents would deduct her salary, and Tim didn’t want that to happen to one of the main people who feeds him, both physically and emotionally.

He still made sure to at least have a meal with his parents, may it be only one of them, or both at once. And each time, the amount that he could get was similar to what he had before. He didn’t know why he even bothered, but there _was_ a saying about how insanity is just doing the same thing but expecting different results, so maybe he was a little insane.

Anyhow, gala day arrived. And for once he had gotten a little more attention from his parents than usual. His mother was busy fussing with his unruly hair, while Jack was at the mirror tying his tie.

His mother looked beautiful in her dark blue dress, regal and elegant. Tim knew that this dress was tailored perfectly to do what she wanted it to do – exclaiming all her great qualities as a person, a high-class socialite, a lady of power. And thus as her family, Tim needed to look his best too.

Her touch was impersonal, though. Not soft like Mrs Mac, not playful like his friends. It was like a comb, an inanimate object. It served to tame his hair. It did not convey any affection, or intimacy. When she deemed his hair to be as perfect as it could be, her attention shifted to her husband, who was now done and waiting for them at the door.

‘Remember, Timothy. Behave, and do not embarrass us.’ This was something that his mother had said every time they went to any events as a whole family. Tim had a suspicion that if it wasn’t because everyone was expecting Tim to be with them, they would have opted to leave Tim alone in the house.

He gripped the corner of his suit just a little too tightly, and his mother smacked his hands. Gently, because it wouldn’t do them any good for them if anyone saw that his hand was red. Tim gulped, and released the suit.

The raised eyebrow on his mother’s face told him that he forgot to answer her in his nervousness. ‘Ah, yes, mother. I’ll behave.’

And there was the first smile he received from his mother today.

His father patted him on his back comfortingly, or what Jack would think was comforting, but to Tim it was a little too harsh and heavy. ‘That’s my boy. You go and enjoy yourself, get some drinks and food. Maybe if you heard anything that might be advantageous to us…’ He trailed off, sharing a mischievous look with Tim. 

It was something that was taught to Tim very early on. If there were any events that Tim was going, his parents had made sure to let Tim know, that whatever he had heard, any gossip about anyone in the high-class community that could be interesting or useful, must be shared to them at the end of the event. Even small things like _Mrs. Chadwick loved to go to that restaurant for dinner,_ or _Mr. Morgan was seen in the theatre with a young woman,_ or _there was a rumour about the Blacks losing their company._ Everything was important to his parents, and no one would be careful around a young child.

Tim smiled, even if he was cringing a little inside. He now knew that this was definitely frowned upon, but at the same time he also knew that _everyone_ does this, and so technically if _he_ didn’t do this, he would be the reason that his parents could not catch up on Gotham gossips. So he nodded, and promised to do so.

‘Good boy,’ His father raised his hands to ruffle Tim’s head, only for his mother to grab his hands away.

‘Do not mess up his hair, I’ve spent a lot of time making it presentable.’

And just like that, it was show time.

\--

There was a reason why Tim hated events like this, and it wasn’t just because of the crowds.

It’s the expectation that all children should be seen and not heard. And for some, children should not even be seen. So Tim made sure to be on his best behaviour.

He wanted to make his parents proud of him, before. He was a clever child, he knew correlation, he can link things that happen together and come up with a theory. His parents were always willing to stay longer if he behaved, and had threatened to leave early (and most of the times, they actually did leave early) if Tim had a temper tantrum. It wasn’t long before Tim learned to never do that.

But this was the first time he had concrete evidence that his parents… They really didn’t care for him. Well, maybe that was a little strong. But it was definitely true that they had less affection towards him than other people Tim knew.

Did this mean that he could do whatever he wanted and go wild? Of course not. It had taken Tim _everything he could_ to be the best son his parents could ask for, and they still hold less affection towards him compared to his _housekeeper,_ who was just a staff. Tim could imagine that if he acted out _even just a little bit,_ his parents would be like _“fuck this shit I’m out”_ or something, and then they will leave for good.

He’s trying to _earn_ their affection, not making them hate him even more than they did now.

Suffice to say that for this gala, Tim was behaving _exactly_ what his parents would want him to. Be polite and welcoming to any adults that were trying to humour the children. Not make any fuss, not gorge himself on the food, not playing with other children and make noise.

After escaping Mrs Huntington’s cheek-pinching (and being surprised by the amount of _food_ he could feed on that, which made him wonder just what his species deems as love and attention), Tim was resting at an almost-hidden corner near the bar. He was sipping on some orange juice, stomach full of physical food that was provided.

He was a little bored, to be honest. These events should have rules on them saying that children should not be allowed to attend. It was torture to both the children and the adults. Even as he was quietly observing the people mingling around, he could hear the cries of a young girl, sobbing gibberish, while her mother was trying to get her to be quiet, all while apologising to other guests.

Tim would be a little disturbed by how the mother wasn’t trying to calm her daughter down at all, and seemed to only focusing on the other guests and her own pride, but he could see the hand on the girl’s back. The mother, once other guests had laughed it off and told her not to worry, grabbed her daughter up onto her chest, and the mother-daughter duo had left, all while the girl’s cries were getting softer. The mother had her mouth near her daughter’s ear – she must be comforting her.

The feeling inside him, as he watched them leave. It was unpleasant, like someone had given him a lemon without telling him, and told him to bite it. Bitter and sour taste at his mouth, but also in his heart.

(He learned later that it was jealousy. He was jealous of the way the mother had just left the gala with her upset daughter, not even thinking about how it might affect her. How she would have missed a lot of chances, a lot of social networking when she left the gala early. Janet wouldn’t do that. Jack wouldn’t do that.

But well, it wasn’t as if Tim was going to lose control of his emotions and cry and cause a ruckus.)

Everything went back to normal after that. People talking to each other, people talking _at_ each other. Teenagers having their own groups at the corner of the majestic room.

Tim was sticking near the dessert table, because it had been his routine for the last few times he attended a gala. It was obvious enough for his parents to look for him if they needed him, but far enough from the socializing adults to avoid any unwanted conversation and cheek pinching.

(Although… He was a bit surprised that he could actually feed on some of the cheek pinching done by certain people, which made Tim wonder just what was considered food for him. Because he thought it was only familial love, but these were practically strangers, even though they knew each other’s names.)

He just finished another plate of dessert and was heading to drop off the plate when he tripped at the tablecloth. It was a rookie mistake, and it was totally not because he saw Bruce Wayne smiling and talking to another man.

_Holy shit Batman came to my parents’ gala!_

Was the thought that flashed by his mind, and down he went, plate flying and all. Tim managed a soft yelp – he couldn’t be loud, he promised his parents that he would behave. But at the same time it was a moot point, because when the plate crashes onto the floor it would make enough noise to attract attention.

Well, it would, if someone wasn’t there to catch it just in time before it fell and broke. Another pair of hands wrapped around his torso, similarly saving his nose from the floor.

The instant those pair of hands touched him Tim almost died on the spot. The feeling of _warmth fulfilment love care attention_ instantly filled his stores and making him so full he almost puked. His knees buckled, and the strong arms held him up so he didn’t kiss the floor.

‘Are you alright chum?’ The warm tone unexpectedly surprised him. He looked up to Bruce Wayne’s gentle gaze even as he was helped up and be stable on his feet again. Or, he would be able to get onto his two feet without help _if Bruce Wayne would just remove his hands from his person and therefore stop feeding him that huge amount of love and attention._

And wow, that was not a sentence Tim expected himself to think about in his life. But here they were.

Tim managed to grasp whatever will he had left inside of him to be as polite and good as his parents wanted him to be, and smiled weakly. ‘Yes, thank you Mr. Wayne. But I swore you were totally a few feet away just a few seconds ago.’

By managing to stand on his own, Tim silently took a step back. Mr Wayne got the subtle hint, and released Tim. It was all Tim could do to not sag in relief.

After years and years of malnourishment, the sudden feast was a little too much for him. Thankfully it wasn’t actual physical food, but the bloating feeling was enough to make him want to vomit.

‘Ahaha, nah chum. I was just a few steps away from you when you trip and fell. Are you alright, though?’ He repeated the question, the Brucie Wayne mask firmly in place.

Tim took a moment to check, but Mr. Wayne was quick enough that his knees didn’t even touch the ground. ‘I’m fine. Thank you, Mr. Wayne.’

‘You’re welcome, of course. And you are… the son of Jack and Janet Drake?’

Not gonna lie, the fact that _Bruce Wayne AKA Batman_ remembered who he was just by looking at his face was amazing. Of course Batman would take note of his parents – he would think that Batman took note of all the socialites, just to keep with the gossips and what-not happening in Gotham. But to have him remember the kids? That he should have no reason to interact with?

Just. Wow.

‘Yes, Timothy Drake. Nice to meet you, sir.’

Tim would have just look at the man in a daze if he didn’t remember that he was actually in public, where his parents would see him. So instead the _Drake_ in him took over, and he made appropriate small talk with Mr. Wayne. The man seemed to not mind humouring him, although both of them knew very well that whatever he had told Tim had absolutely no value to his business or his personal life. Instead, the man had coaxed Tim into talking about himself, school, friends and all.

Because Tim was glad that he could honestly report back to his parents that he didn’t manage to get any useful information from Bruce Wayne, he gladly babbled about school and his newfound hobby of photography. About science, and his computer classes which he thought was _pandering to the beginners, everything was so simple and too idiot-friendly, he needed some challenges._

It was a short conversation before Mr. Wayne’s attention was grabbed by another businessman who wanted to talk about some deal.

‘It was very nice knowing and talking to you, Timothy.’ The man had smiled at Tim, and it was not the usual fake camera smile that Tim finds on newspapers, because Tim had seen Batman smile at his Robin(s) before, and this one that was aimed towards him was close to that than the fake. ‘You are a bright kid with a great mind, and if you find yourself needing some real-world experience, I am sure the Wayne Enterprise has some space for you.

Tim gaped. ‘You, who is the business owner of my parents’ greatest competitors, is inviting me, a fourteen years old boy, to work in your company. Is that what you’re trying to do?’

Suddenly the smile on Mr. Wayne’s face was less kind, and more mischievous. ‘Well, now. I have the chance to have someone who is clearly bright and capable to work for me, I would have to at least try. Have a good night, Timothy.’

And he just left.

What the heck.

\--

As expected, when the gala ended and Tim was preparing to clean up and rest, his parents approached him.

‘So, I saw you talking with Bruce Wayne for a while. Anything interesting?’ Jack started. Luckily Tim had already prepared for this, and he just gave his parents some tidbits that Bruce let slip, but it was obvious that his parents didn’t want useless information like what Tim’s giving them.

‘Ehem, yes, you’ve done well and all…’ Jack eyed Janet, who took a step forward so Tim shifted his gaze to his mother.

‘Anything about his latest investment? Or even just slightly more interested in something? He definitely would have said something to you, the two of you were talking for quite a while for an adult to speak to a child. And with what Bruce is like, he wouldn’t be thinking of keeping any important secrets from a child he doesn’t know.’

There was so much that he could retort about. Like how Bruce had actually conversed with him like an adult to each other, and not only listened to him attentively but also actually processed through what he said and giving replies. How Bruce wasn’t actually the dumb-headed person that everyone thought, that it was just a mask. How he wasn’t a child that he didn’t know, because _Bruce Wayne remembered who he was, even though he didn’t know his name._

In the end though, he kept quiet. Ever since realizing that he couldn’t feed on his parent’s attention, Tim just slowly stopped bothering to try. Oh, he will still do what he had always done, but somehow when he was proven right yet again, the disappointment hurt less. And he was tired.

(And unexpectedly, so full. Not from the hands of his parents, but from someone who was essentially a stranger.)

So he just insisted that he didn’t manage to catch anything worth remembering, and with his parent’s disappointment hanging over his head, Tim said good night and went into his room.

His parents didn’t even reply to him.

\--

Food from Bruce lasted him a whole week. It was basically a miracle, how an almost-stranger can care for him so much to feed him enough attention to last a week. Even with his best planning, Mrs. Mac could only give him five days of food.

Tim wondered what made Bruce Wayne so different. Maybe it’s because he was a child? Batman did seem to have a weakness against children, especially black-haired blue-eyed boys (see Robin I and Robin II). But unlike Dick and Jason who were in the situation where an adult was needed, Tim was in a rich family who wants for nothing. He was very curious why he would care so much.

But the more pressing thing that Tim wanted to be answered was: if Bruce could give him, a child who was practically a stranger, enough attention to last him a week, how much could he give when Tim got closer to him?

That was when the job offer became very interesting.

Oh at first Tim had treated the job offer as a joke, something an adult would say to a kid but it was understood that the offer would not be taken up. And from how Tim never had another conversation with Bruce Wayne again for the next few months other than just nods of acknowledgment, Tim assumed that he was correct in thinking that. No businessman in their right mind would hire a child, much less a child of their competitors. Not only would it be a waste of time and effort, but they would also risk their company secrets being leaked out to their competitors, thus guaranteeing their loss.

But now, as he was approaching his fifteenth birthday, something was bothering him. See, almost a year ago, a quick meal and some quality conversation with Mrs. Mac at home would have him full for days. But as he got older, that time was decreasing bit by bit. Not to mention that slowly but surely he was losing his friends – Tim was a rich kid but a nerd. Once the others realised that they couldn’t cheat him out of his money easily, the free snacks, homemade meals slowly disappeared. They still hung out, but in bigger groups so Tim had no chance of getting fed that way.

His parents… He hadn’t seen them since the gala. They missed his birthday again, but at one point Tim just didn’t care anymore. It’s not like he could feed on his parents’ attention anyway.

_(He will never let anyone know that when he understood that his parents won’t be home for his birthday, the hunger pangs in his stomach was nothing compared to the pain in his soul.)_

_(But of course he should have expected that. It’s not like he was their real child after all. He had never questioned how he was this alien baby that was sent to this family. How did it all work? Did someone replace the Drake’s baby with him? Was he just forced inside Janet Drake’s stomach and to pretend that he was their children all along? Did he just appear in their house with no warning? Do they even know if he was an alien and therefore not their child?_

_That last question was the one that Tim never wanted to be answered.)_

So yeah, new plans were needed. Desperately. Because he had been in constant hunger for the last few months, and he could physically feel himself weakening. The only reason he was still alive was that he was the top scorer of his class, and his teachers loved him. When he was showing signs of weakness, some of them had actually pulled him aside after class, just to ask if he was alright.

Tim managed to act pathetic enough that he could receive some shoulder pats and hands on his back. Enough to tide him for a while.

But he knew very well that if this kept up, he will die.

So yes. New plans.

\--

The first step of his plans unfortunately involved a phone call to his parents. He was a minor still, and needed parental approval. But Tim knew exactly how to get his way. So the first step was relatively easy. He just needed to convince them that what he was doing will benefit them and the Drake Enterprise, and they were all for it. He even managed to get a small amount of food from the way they praised him through the phone for being such a responsible and helpful son.

The first step done, with his parent’s signed email approval. The second thing he needed was to write up a proposal, which he already did, as soon as he hung up the phone call with his parents. The third step was to email it, attaching the email from his father saying that they approved. And he did that, as soon as he received the email from his father.

Which left him with the final step, which he was not very good at – waiting for a reply. He’s a teenager, alright? He didn’t have much patience to begin with.

But after a few days, he finally received a phone call from a lovely lady telling him that he had an appointment with _Mr. Bruce Wayne_ in his office next Saturday at 10 in the morning. After saying a thousand thank-yous (because he really didn’t think he would get a reply) and promising to be there, Tim hung up the phone and did a victory dance.

Thankfully he was alone in his own room, and no one saw him.

By this time he was surviving on Mrs Mac’s food, and nothing else. He was constantly hungry, but not for physical food. Tim was very grateful that his hunger doesn’t translate to hunger for physical food, or he would be stuffing himself so full he’d be gaining a couple of pounds every week. Instead, he was just eating whatever Mrs Mac made for him. On days where she wasn’t in and he had to take care of his own food, it’s just takeout and cereals. And coffee.

But he could feel himself weakening. He was short and tiny for his age. He could only follow Batman and Robin for half the night before going out of breath and weak in the legs when previously he could follow them all the way until they return to their home. He kept losing concentration on things unless he drank coffee to stimulate his brain.

Any longer like this, and he could probably drop down and die at any moment.

Tim wrangled his hands as he waited to be called into the office. He was sitting, but he stood up when his legs were shaking like he had a hundred cups of coffee. But standing was a little awkward, so he graduated to pacing around. Then he stopped when the secretary eyed him from her spot near the office doors. Smiling sheepishly at her, he sat back down.

The moment his ass touched the chair the phone on the secretary’s table rang. Tim watched as she picked it up. A while later, she made her way to the office door, nodding at Tim on the way.

Tim shot up from his seat so fast he almost fell face-first on the floor.

The woman’s face was kind, even as she smiled at his little stumble. ‘Mr Wayne will see you now.’

‘Thank you.’ He managed to mumble to her just as he entered the room, where Mr Wayne had just finished signing his last document and was looking up at Tim.

The door clicked shut behind him. Tim put on his bravest and sweetest smile while he walked up towards the man, who was in the midst of standing. He reached out, ready for a handshake.

‘Hello Mr Wayne, thank you for agreeing to this meeting.’

The contact from where Mr Bruce Wayne (BATMAN OH MY GOD HE’S TOUCHING THE REAL LIFE BATMAN) shook his hands made Tim feel like he had ascended to heaven – the testament of how long he had gone without food ever since he knew about his own condition. It was like he was starving for days, months, before finally been given _good quality food._

 _That’s it,_ he swore to himself, _I’ll do_ anything _to make sure I get to come here, even if it’s just once a week, as long as I get this handshake._

‘Hello, Timothy. So, I hear that you are asking for an intern position in my office?’

Tim braced himself for his one chance at staying alive.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be longer, but I got stuck, so I figure why not just post as it is. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I do read every comment, but I'm not a very engaging person, so I doubt that people want to get replies, then it's like a week later, and then it's just weird if I reply then. But ultimately it's already good enough if you enjoyed it, because I enjoy writing these scenarios anyway. <3


End file.
